by Rose Jenster
“I suppose I ought to be more amusing. I can tell you, though, my patient John is weighing on my mind. I grew up with him, not far from here, and he’s doing poorly. I’ve been out there three times in as many days and cannot make head or tail of it. His stomach pains him, he cannot eat without bringing it up again. He has no fever, yet chills rack his body and he is wasting, he is weak. I can find no cause on examination and prescribe no physic to ease him,” Alec said in defeat.
“Had he eaten anything that disagreed with him? Did he try some questionable remedy to fix an ailment and ingest something harmful? It sounds like a poison, to me. I hope this is not too bold of me,” Felicity said.
“He does not report anything of the kind but he is trying to rest and not use many words,” Alec said.
“What if I speak with his wife? He may have confided in her, or she may have given him something that made things worse. With my interest in herbalism, I can ask a deal of questions without rousing suspicion. I think Bea and I will take them a nice pie,” she said.
“I—I would appreciate that immensely,” he said, surprised by Felicity's generosity and relieved at how their tension was also reduced.
“Once, our pastor’s wife told me that her husband said his greatest resource as a minister was a good wife because people would tell her things they were afraid to confide in him.” Felicity felt a pang in her heart thinking of the kindness of the elderly couple she missed.
“I can see the advantage to that. I am not accustomed to having so active a listener. Bea is patient with me, but she only tolerates medical talk. Felicity, I’m glad you suggested that and I apologize for my poor manners. I am not used to how to treat others that are not patients. You are a kind soul. Now I must be off to check on the epileptic boy.” He kissed her cheek and shyly smoothed down a stray hair near her ear .
Later that evening, he came in for supper at a more reasonable hour than usual. Alec sent Beatrice to write to her beloved while he and Felicity tended to the dishes. He rolled up his sleeves and began washing utensils alongside Felicity while she dried them.
“I liked talking to you about my patient, about John. It helped to have your insight and to see that there are other ways to find things out than just asking the man. You were a help to me today,” he said with a smile.
“You might be surprised by the benefits of speaking to me,” Felicity teased.
“We ought to take more walks together and talk about what you’re growing in your herb garden. I will value your remarks about my patients and, I suppose even the writer John Donne,” Alec said warmly.
“I’d like that,” she said almost demurely, feeling suddenly shy around him. The muscles in her face relaxed a bit.
Later that night, they both sat reading, remarking to each other about their books. He nodded over his, exhausted by a day’s long ride and labor. Felicity, too, had fallen asleep in her clothes, upright in a chair, when a banging came at the door. The man at the door was nearly in hysterics because his wife was having a baby and something was clearly wrong. Suddenly alert, Alec reached for his medical bag and went to wake his sister. Within minutes they were gone, following the rider who’d come to fetch them and give whatever aid was possible.
Felicity said a quick prayer that they would be able to help the woman and her child. She took down her hair and changed into her nightdress but lay awake listening for hoof beats, for Alec’s return. Felicity counted the ticks of the old clock in the next room which seemed unnaturally loud, but she could not get to sleep. At last, she rose and lit the lamp and began to make crust for pies as Bea had taught her. If she couldn’t help him in a crisis, she could bake a pie and try to get some clues about John’s condition by bringing it over.
Felicity washed and dressed while it baked and then made a breakfast of johnnycakes and salt pork for Alec and Bea’s return. She set a plate upside down atop it to protect it from flies and waited for sunrise when she could reasonably walk to John’s farm and ask after his condition while giving his wife the pie.
No matter how busy she tried to stay, her thoughts kept fleeting to Alec and the fact that he had asked his sister to join him to help him at childbirth and not herself. She reasoned that Beatrice had practice at this sort of task, but still she felt excluded.
Felicity went through the motions of making the bed, tidying the house, and sweeping the floor. She kept trying to think of something else she could do to contribute to their comfort after a harrowing sleepless night. As the sky began to lighten, Felicity darted out back beyond the fence and gathered a bouquet of wildflowers. She set them in a jug of water on the table to brighten the place up a bit. As she washed her hands, she smiled at the thought of trying to take care of others after an entire lifetime of daydreaming and thinking only of her own comfort and amusement.
Felicity sat down and wrote to her mother to tell her that at last some of her lessons about caring for others were being put to use. Mother had often quoted the story of Ruth from the Bible and Felicity had been moved by the lines Ruth had uttered to Naomi: “Intreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest I will lodge...” What surprised her was that giving made her heart happier than she ever thought it could.
Just after sunrise, Felicity took the pie to the patient’s farm and comforted his wife. He was still sick, it seemed, and had no relief. After sharing some pie and listening to her worry, Felicity asked if she’d given him any ginger. “Ginger does wonders for a sick stomach,”
“No, my mother always gave us fennel bulb. It’s what I gave him. He was lucky we had any left…just the top section,” John's wife replied.
“The top of a fennel bulb spoils quickly, Hannah. Faster than the rest of the bulb. It’s best used as soon as you harvest it. Was this from last season?” Felicity said with concern.
“Yes. Do you think it injured him? I told him he had to chew it right up and swallow it down even though he didn’t like the taste. Oh, Felicity, you don’t think it’s hurt him!” Hannah spoke with tears welling up in her eyes.
“I’m not sure. It couldn’t have helped him any. I’ll speak to Dr. Walsh about it when he gets in. You get some rest now and keep him drinking water as much as he will,” Felicity advised and went back to Alec’s house where she found them back in the kitchen. Alec and Beatrice were tucking in to the breakfast she’d left for them.
“I’m just back from John’s, Alec. His wife gave him the top of an old fennel bulb which I think was probably spoilt.”
“Food poisoning then,” he said shortly, not looking up. “Good work.” Alec appeared exhausted
Bea put her dish in the sink and went to bed, so Felicity sat in the chair she’d vacated.
“Did the delivery go well?” She was afraid to ask him this question.
Alec shook his head and looked at her. She saw at once that his eyes were red with more than lack of sleep.
“The baby?” she asked softly, sadness settling around her heart at the mere thought.
“The mother,” he said raggedly.
Felicity felt tears sting her eyes, and she reached for him, pulling him into her arms and holding him awkwardly from her kitchen chair. They sat that way for a long time, until she felt the tremor in his arms subside. At once, he drew her to her feet and kissed her forehead with so much care that her heart's hurt healed. She silently said a prayer for the family and for Alec to not get discouraged.
“I could only think it might have been you,” Alec said and crushed her against him.
“Oh, Alec,” Felicity said, “It would never have got that far. You would have been right there to treat me and make sure nothing bad happened,”
“I am only a man, Felicity, with some skill, not the power over life and death. I could not bear it if it had been you. How that man must feel! How will he continue? I could not lose you.”
“Then take care that you do not lose me,” she said with a weak smile.
&n
bsp; “I find I cannot wait any longer, Felicity. I have—a license already. I have a ring in a box on my dresser. Will you say your vows with me today? This very day?”
Overwhelmed, Felicity burst into tears, laughing and crying at once. Gasping for air, she wiped her face with his handkerchief before she could answer.
“Yes, this day, this very moment, Alec. I knew when you left last night that I loved you as I never imagined I could,” she admitted.
“You are a difficult woman to win, then, because I knew before you ever stepped off the train,” Alec replied.
“Why all the nonsense about my looks then?” she challenged.
“I knew from your letters that you are not like me. You are a creature of the heart, yet you had told me you could not love me. You were settling for me, for a loveless marriage to a man who would give you a home and children,” Alec said softly. “ I wanted a true harmony between us and not for you to settle.”
“You were testing me?” Felicity's eyes widened.
“No, I had a valid point. A beautiful woman who needs to fall in love isn’t the best risk for a man like me. I’m gruff and sometimes thoughtless and absorbed in science. I was afraid I could not hold your interest.”
“You might have tried at least,” she laughed.
“You are too good for me, too lovely and caring and clever. I cannot hope to deserve you,” Alec said and looked down.
“Then have me anyway, even if you are hopelessly unworthy,” she laughed and hugged him. “Let us get ready then, to find the pastor.” Felicity exuded enthusiasm.
“First, a ring,” he said. Alec starting walking with a mysterious look and retrieved a box from his room.
Felicity opened it to find a perfect narrow golden band with the glint of a bright blue sapphire. She slipped it on her finger and admired it. Alec embraced her.
“I had thought to put it on your finger myself,” he said. But Alec's laughter showed he wasn't surprised by Felicity's haste.
“As you have been all along, you moved too slowly. I liked it too well to wait,” she said playfully.
“Thank you for your patience with me,” Alec said seriously.
“Thank you for believing I could do this, be a doctor’s wife on the frontier, when nothing in my life had made me fit to do it,” Felicity whispered.
“After the wedding I’ll need to go speak with John and his wife.”
“That isn’t very romantic, rushing from your wedding to the bedside of a man with a stomach complaint. But I expected nothing less from you Alec.”
“Will you go with me?” Alec felt a joy that had been absent for so long in his life.
“Yes,” Felicity agreed. “They can congratulate us, and you can taste my peach pie,” she said with a smile.
Felicity dressed carefully and set her bonnet on just so before waking Beatrice.
“I know you’re tired, but your brother and I are going to be married, and I’d like you to stand as bridesmaid. May I help you get ready?” Felicity asked.
“Oh yes!” Beatrice exclaimed, and together they dressed her and pinned up her hair, giggling like young girls with the excitement. “I'm so glad you both cannot wait any longer.”
“This was my mother’s,” Beatrice said, taking a small item from her trunk. It was a cameo on a blue velvet ribbon. “I plan to wear it at my wedding, something old and something blue. It could be your something borrowed as well.”
“I’d be honored to wear it, Bea. Thank you,” Felicity said and embraced her new sister.
Together, the three went to the pastor’s home. Alec and Felicity were laughing with joy as they arranged themselves in the parlor to stand properly for the ceremony. Every time Alec admonished her that it was a serious moment and they must be solemn, they both laughed. He would give her a stern look and when he looked through the corners of his eyes, saw her mischievous schoolgirl expression.
Alec and Felicity joined hands, suddenly able to become calm and silent as the pastor read the Scripture and they spoke their vows, sealing them with a sweet kiss.
Beatrice had never seen her brother so content and squeezed Felicity's hand. Her heart was at peace that such a wonderful and deep person came into Alec's life.
At home, Alec and Felicity quickly changed from their Sunday best into working clothes for their visit to John’s farm while Beatrice kissed them both, tucked the cameo into her trunk once again, and returned to bed for some well-earned rest. As they walked the dusty path, Alec tucked Felicity’s hand in his elbow, drawing her nearer.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Walsh. This is the life you’ve signed up for.”
“I understand that we’ll be together, and there is the promise of pie,” she said cheekily.
“Yes,” he said, smiling at her.
“Then I’m perfectly happy with the bargain I've made, Alec,” she assured him.
With their fingers intertwined, Felicity repeated in her mind the most beautiful words, “Welcome home, Mrs. Walsh.”
Mail Order Husband Frank
Montana Mail Order Bride Series, Book 4
Chapter 1
Charlotte Conners sat at the escritoire where her mother in the past each morning conducted her correspondence. It had been several years since her mother bothered to reply to the few invitations which trickled in from well-meaning friends who were part of their former life. The burden had fallen to Charlotte of composing carefully phrased notes to decline invitations for tea, supper or a card party.
While she would have enjoyed such outings herself and having a bit of society would have been good for her mother, they could not in good conscience accept an invitation when they had no hope of being able to reciprocate. Their circumstances had been so reduced by her father’s death that they did without many small comforts. Entertaining their former associates was a luxury they could not afford.
Charlotte’s father had been a reverend and well respected. When he passed away after a sudden illness, the family was obligated to vacate the vicarage and relocate to cheap rented lodgings. They were in a neighborhood of Albany that her discerning and fastidious father would never have permitted them to walk in, much less reside. He had a keen sense of what was appropriate and respectable.
Charlotte was reasonably certain he would consider his only daughter to be neither of those things at the age of twenty. She had done what had to be done and none of it was illegal, she consoled herself. But her mother did not know Charlotte's true means of income. As far as Mildred Conners was concerned, Charlotte made a bit of money to help out the household by studying and transcribing cooking recipes for a ladies’ magazine.
Her mother’s spirits had been depressed since the death of Charlotte's father and the subsequent eviction from the home where she had spent all her married life. Mrs. Conners sole source of comfort was the knowledge that she had managed, with the small sum of money her husband had saved, to send their only son Roger to college.
It had been Charles Conners’ wish that their son would have the opportunity to go into business. The one issue upon which Mildred bothered to assert herself after her husband's untimely death was her determination that any money remaining in the account must be used for Roger’s education. It was only right and proper that a young man had a chance at a good profession. When Roger expressed his interest in law, then law school it had to be.
Charlotte had thought silently to herself that he should go to work in one of the iron foundries. She had many mixed feelings that confused her. If Charlotte resented the appropriation of their meager resources to provide advanced education for her brother while she worked in secret and had her tea without sugar to economize, she kept it to herself.
She had gone to school before her father died and even won a few prizes for her compositions. Charlotte also been punished by the schoolmaster for writing about abolition, which was an indelicate topic for a young girl to speak of. It had been on that day, her palms smarting from the master’s ruler, that she had met Leah Weaver.
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br /> Leah was at that time a teaching assistant for the younger students. She had commended Charlotte for her interest in justice and compassion and had told her that it was perfectly right for a woman, as one of God’s creatures, to show concern for others. Leah had gone so far as to say that all were the same in the eyes of the Lord. She hadn’t spoken against the punishment directly, but it went without saying that Leah Weaver would never have struck a pupil for writing about a topic that had been discussed at length from every pulpit in America.
Leah’s kindness had stayed with Charlotte and even inspired her to pursue her current career as a newspaper reporter, albeit one who wrote under a man’s pseudonym. Charlotte wanted to support her family, not disgrace them. She held in her heart the notion that compassion and curiosity were traits to be prized, even if she had to conceal them much of the time.
For the first year after her father's death, she had taken in sewing and worked in a shop. However, it was not enough to keep vegetables for the endless pots of stew she made, much less to purchase a bit of meat for Sundays. Even with cheap rent, with selling off bits and bobs like the china figures that had been given to her by her grandmother and the seed pearl pin that she won as a prize for a poetry contest at sixteen, Charlotte could hardly afford to keep her mother in embroidery silk and Earl Grey.
As it was, her mother thought her unpardonably stupid and forgetful for always buying the “wrong” sort of tea…the sort that was much less expensive...and getting it by the pound bag instead of by the half-pound loose. There were many little economies that made inroads to keeping her mother comfortable, untroubled by unnecessary worry.
The chap at the newsstand always let her have a day-old newspaper for free twice a week so on the other days she could claim to have forgotten to pick one up. When he had invited her for a walk and a lemonade, she had struggled to resist. Charlotte reminded herself she was a respectable minister’s daughter, not a cheap shop girl who went round with newsboys. Still, it had been nice to be asked by him as if she had the sort of life in which she could be someone’s sweetheart.